Not yet, but I'm sure it will happen Good imagery, I love the bit about the letters, can definetly relate :s

Whoa. That's so fuckin' sad... I love it. It displays everything I look for in a poem. Structure, emotion, a good story and rythm. And it's nice to read a poem and see good grammer and spelling. Well done.

--
Sarah!!

try not to, it's fucking misery

glad you liked the bit about the letters

Oh, and I was planning to post some oblique free verse, with pointless indents, about cassowaries and knives. Maybe I should think again?

btw, it's 'rhythm' & 'grammar' - (forgive me but there's people around here'd crucify a girl over the odd typo)

I think you should leave it how it is. I love it like this!

Lol... Sorry, I have a bad habit of not checking my spelling.. It's usually not so much that I can't spell words, more so that my fingers don't type them how I tell them too.

--
Sarah!!

as for the content by and large, there's too much drama in there for my taste. but ! you manage to keep yet at least one step above the usual "why have you left me and just look what you've done to me" - trap to be observed in many cases here at dA. that's mainly because of the rhyming and internal rhythms you manage to pull off quite well. in this regard i particularly liked this passage:

of letters better left unwritten -
never sent, now torn and scattered, littered
with my bitter thoughts unuttered,
so utterly distraught I am, I poured a litany of scorn
and longing deep in each and every one of them.
(…oh, no - we didn’t speak, we swore).

on the other hand (was there a 'one hand' in the first place...? no. that's right.), and despite the good rhyming, there's far too many instances of 'you' in this stanza' s last four lines:

Now after thirty calls left ringing,
no-one there to care a cringing jilted love’s
prepared to fling himself upon his knees
and plead his throbbing need for you
my eyes are stinging full of tears for you,
I’m breathless, sobbing out this creed to you, and
limply clinging to a faint receding glimpse of you.. same with the next two lines.

i don't want to walk into the trap of "i can relate", because that's not what this poem should be about. it should evoke emotions rather than administering existing ones (i.e. from your side to that of the reader's and back). don't get me wrong: evoke emotions it does. but since i've come to know you as a friendly and funny internet character, i can't help but bring this hitherto experience of mine into reading this poem. so i can't read this without thinking of it as a tongue-in-cheek poem rather than a 100% serious one. i know this might be a fault, but as i said i can't help it.

p.s. the first half of the poem is the stronger one regarding imagery.

--
the sky
to night's last city

Yes, well, our narrator, the snot-nosed snivelling little wretch that he is, is shown here stumbling from accusation, through recrimination, confession, until, hitting rock bottom, he arrives at a grovelling state of desperation.
Stripped of pride, and thoroughly self-abnegating, he emits a humiliating howl of you,you,you, clinging like a drowning thing to the futile hope that this might bring his departed lover back.

or that's how it's meant to be...

Too much drama? Well of course it's meant to be melodrama of the most lurid and adolescent kind, not just because twp has his tongue aligned ever so slightly sideways, but because that's what teenage love is, that and the clumsy release of bodily fluids.

As to your sneaking suspicion that twp, being a friendly and funny internet character (fantastic - makes me sound like Jiminy Cricket), might not be 100% serious in his literary intentions...well shhh! there. We don't want word getting around that twp is a fraud. Next thing, people will be saying he's not 56, he's not a predacious pederast, and, horror of horrors, his pants are neither tight nor white!

okay then.

--
the sky
to night's last city

Congrats! Your poem has been featured! [link]

*Wistful Sigh* Ahhh.. for so many years, my life was the storyline of this poem. Much was learned... many pieces of my heart and soul were left at the uncaring feet of some random teenage boy. I had a tendency to be the one that would leave fifty fucking voicemails, or drop letters into the guy's locker three times a day, ad nauseam. Oh, the golden years... piss on them! Great poem--descriptive words, very candid phrasing, very emotional--my idea of a perfect poem.

--
"Now I know the things I know, and I do the things I do; and if you do not like me so, to hell, my love, with you!"
— Dorothy Parker